


Pit Stop

by fecklessphilanderer



Series: The Arcana Whump [1]
Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Emetophobia, Food Poisoning, Gender-Neutral Apprentice (The Arcana), Hurt/Comfort, Vomiting, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-02-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:33:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22565572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fecklessphilanderer/pseuds/fecklessphilanderer
Summary: Julian an the Apprentice are travelling with Mazelinka and Portia when they stop at a little island plentiful in rich fruits and nuts.“They’re a plant only native to the area you grew up! Foolish boy, you call yourself a Doctor?”“That’s unfair! I was just trying to—"“Ilya! Y/N doesn’t look so good.”
Relationships: Apprentice/Julian Devorak, Julian Devorak/Reader
Series: The Arcana Whump [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1675759
Comments: 8
Kudos: 145





	Pit Stop

The island is beautiful. A pit-stop on the way to Nevivon. It reminds you a bit of the astral plane. The water laps at the rocky shores, the sky is clear, sunlight dapples the ground through the bright greenery.

Julian has started to tan from being out on deck working in the rigging on the bright mornings. It suits him, when he blushes it looks even more fantastic —if that’s even possible. If before it was stark pink on white lilies, now is a soft dusting, rosy and dusky and so easy to pull out of him with the slightest touch.

He’s not too far from you, foraging for nuts and berries that grow on the small island. Apparently Mazelinka knew all the best recipes for the plentiful fruits.

Your taking the time to meditate while the others are doing little odd jobs on the boat. Maz and Portia had been keen to get you and Julian away by yourselves for a while citing ‘young lovers’ (Maz) and ‘insufferable eye-fucking’ (Portia) as a need for a break.

You brought one of Asra’s blankets from the shop to use for daily meditation and had laid it out to have a seat and listen to the lapping waves and light noises of the trees. Focus wasn’t coming easily when all you could do was look at Julian. It was nice to see him like this, for once unaware you were watching him and not hamming it up and rolling his eyebrows at you sleazily.

You close your eyes and breath deep, letting your mind wander. You can see Asra and Nadia bent over documents days before you left. Is it okay for both you and Julian to leave Vesuvia for a month while they work on major changes to the city? You breathe deep and loosen the worry in your chest.

You see the shop, Vesuvia, Muriel’s hut—Asra brought you there after everything settled. The two of them are close. Speaking of closeness, Nadia and Portia— Portia’s been writing letters to give to Nadia upon returning to Vesuvia. Every day she sits and contemplates how to word the details of what has happened on the trip. So far it seems like a lot of complaining about Julian and hyperbolic descriptions of swash-buckling adventures. Of which there had been none. Sometimes you would read over the writing to check for spelling mistakes as Portia’s most recent concern was that Nadia would think she was not educated enough for her if she had a few spelling mistakes. You told her it was foolish but found yourself editing the pieces all the same. You were sworn to secrecy, no matter what Julian said you wouldn’t tell him what Portia wrote. Although it was tempting when she wrote that she had caught Julian when he fell from the rigging during a windstorm. In reality, he fell _onto_ her.

You wonder if Nadia and Asra are doing well, you and Julian had helped them get started on the clean aqua duct system before you left. It was a massive job though and even with Asra’s parents returned—was it enough?

“Here! A snack.” Small round fruits drop into your lap from above. Julian sits down again cross-legged beside you on your blanket.

“Sorry y/n were you doing magic?”

“Meditating.”

“Oh! Sorry, don’t mind me then I’ll be quiet.” He smiles and settles in to watch you.

You close your eyes again but can feel his eyes on you.

“Why don’t you join me Julian?”

“y/n?”

“Close your eyes,” you crack your eye open to watch him as he mimics your posture and closes his eyes.

You close your eyes again and take a deep breath.

“Keep them closed Julian.” He lets out a squeak.

“How did you know I had them open?!”

“I didn’t, now take some deep breaths.” You begin to count aloud and listen as his breathing goes slow and deep. You trail off but his breathing stays even. Only then do you open your eyes to watch him.

His jaw’s gone slack and his hair curls over his eyes. The little scrunch of his crows feet has smoothed out the way it does when he sleeps.

You pop a fruit into your mouth and watch him. It bursts over-sweet on your tongue. You eat about a handful while watching him before they become so rich you have to stop. 

“y/n?” He breathes.

“hmmm?”

“What am I supposed to be doing?”

“Just breathing, and feeling the ground underneath you,” you roll up to your knees so you can move closer to him, “listen to the ocean.” You reach out and tuck a curl behind his ear as he starts to turn pink.

“I thought our eyes were supposed to be closed?” he says shakily.

“Yours, not mine. Stay with your breath.”

To your surprised he stays with it. Even when you lean in close and place your hands on his jaw, he relaxes into it. You trace the bags under his eyes with your thumb and imagine putting rest into his skin. You’re on vacation, but it doesn’t mean Julian’s problems disappear. At least he’s not hiding them under an eyepatch since it’s only the four of you on the journey.

It’s nice to see him so relaxed. You’d think he was asleep if you couldn’t feel him adjusting himself every few minutes.

Your stomach churns in less than restful way.

“We should head back.”

His eyes flutter open and he looks a little dazed. He stares up at you for a moment.

“Do we have to?” He asks.

“Yes, Maz wanted to be out of here before dusk.”

You stand and pull him up with you. He picks up the fruit and pockets it while you wrap up the blanket and the two of you begin the walk back to the boat.

You feel queasier with every step, the sun is too warm. Julian walks too fast. You don’t want to get on to a rocking boat, you want to stay in the peaceful clearing running your hands over your partner’s face and lips.

“Y/n! Ilya! Get down here you two.” Mazelinka is crouched amongst rocks and bushes on the shoreline burying what’s left of her fire while Portia is packing away some jars and tools to carry up the gangway.

You try to keep yourself steady and do a damn good job. You don’t need Julian feeling any guilt about that fruit giving you a stomach-ache and he doesn’t appear to notice.

You’re standing with a box in your arms when Maz takes it from you.

“What’s wrong with you?” She asks, straight to the point.

“I think it might be something I ate,” you keep your voice low in hopes Julian won’t hear.

Portia and Julian and making their way back down for the last of the things when Maz yells.

“Julian! What did you feed y/n?”

“Nothing! Just some berries. Why?”

“See for yourself!”

Julian and Portia scurry over. You feel sweat running down your forehead.

“Those fruits from this island are too rich for someone that hasn’t travelled in this region you fool!”

“Oh Julian!”

“Don’t say it like that Pasha how was I supposed to know?” You want to reassure them your fine, but you feel bile rising in your throat. 

“They’re a plant only native to the area you grew up! Foolish boy, you call yourself a Doctor?”

“That’s unfair! I was just trying to—"

“Ilya! Y/N doesn’t look so good.”

Your palms are slick, you wipe them on your tunic. You swallow.

“I’m fi—” You lean forward a puke across the beach rocks. To your horror some of it splashes up onto Julian’s boots. You try to move away but you are wracked by another heave and Julian’s hands are on your shoulders.

“Get them out of the sun Ilya,” Maz says, “Pasha find a bucket.”

Julian’s hands are under your knees and suddenly you’re up in the air. You can’t find the strength to struggle, your too busy trying to keep from barfing on Julian’s chest. You’re already mortified as it is.

The pounding in your head releases when Julian gets you below-deck. You’re set down on your shared bunk and then there is the distant sound of the three of them talking before Julian’s hands are on you again. He pulls off your scarf and pushes something cool into your hands. The bucket.

You lose yourself to the pain in your guts and pray you will have the strength to keep it down and make Julian know it’s not his fault. You shouldn’t have eaten that fruit. You’ve never vomited in front of him before. You feel vulnerable and your guts burn. 

His hands are light on your skin as he peels your scarf off you and lays you down on your shared bunk. The boat bobs a little which does not help things.

“y/n I’m so sorry, I should’ve known better.”

The boat bobs and you place your chin on the edge of the bucket. The coolness feels nice on your heated skin.

“Maz says it won’t last too long, I’ve got something to help you sleep once we know you’ve expelled it all,” he’s using the clipped and calm Doctor voice that he puts on with patients in pain. You’re irritated to admit it’s working.

You dry heave but swallow it back and try to keep the nausea down with deep breathing. You can barely keep your eyes open.

Julian is unlacing your shoes and putting them aside. You can look at him knelt like this without moving away from the bucket. He looks panicked and guilty. You’ve seen this face on Julian before. This is the face he makes when he tells you he’s a bad person.

“I’m fine” you slur the words with another aborted heave.

“Oh yes I can see that.”

You let out a grunt and curl around the bucket. The third time you heave and then swallow down rising vomit Julian slides onto the bed behind you and rubs your back. You hadn’t even noticed him take his boots off.

“You need to get the rest of it out y/n,” he rubs up and down in circles on your back.

You heave and hold it back again.

“Why won’t you let it out? I can’t give you the medicine until you’re done.”

“You can leave, I don’t want to worry you,” you’re in too much pain to make up a lie.

“I’m not leaving you y/n! Just barf or I’ll induce it,” he waggles his long fingers near your face and you imagine biting him if you had more strength.

“Don’t you fucking dare.” He pats your back placatingly. 

“I’m only joking dear but seriously, you’ll make things a lot worse for yourself.”

You heave again.

“C’mon, you can do it.”

“Can’t,” your mouth is full of spit. Julian slides a hand over your hair, brushing the stray strands out of the way.

“Why not?” He’s right beside your ear. It’d be downright erotic if you weren’t about to blow chunks.

“It’s—ugh, gross.”

“I’m a Doctor y/n I’ve seen it all, you don’t have to worry about me.”

“I already got it on your boots.”

“I don’t care if you vomit all over me, I’ll still love you.” It’s sickeningly sweet, his hands never stop moving across your back.

You breathe heavily and then nod, squeezing your eyes shut and shuffling back so you can curl your upper body over the bucket properly. Your abdominals feel like they’re being stabbed by a hot poker.

Julian’s hand is heavy and cool on the back of your neck you relax your legs off the edge of the bed and loosen your hold on the sides of the bucket.

“You can do it, I’ve got you.”

You heave and vomit into the bucket with a wet sound and Julian practically coos at you. The tears that had been forming in your eyes spill over and you pant heavily into the foul-smelling bucket. There’s another heave and you start again. It burns your throat and Julian’s hand is still on the back of your neck—holding you steady.

It takes about five minutes of on and off heaving and spitting up bile before you feel done. You lean the side of your face against the rim of the bucket and breath deep and slow.

Julian pets your head and waits. You don’t know how long he waits but eventually there’s a glass pressed to your lips and a hand on your sternum pulling you back.

“Rinse,” he says.

You let him pour water into your mouth, gargle and spit it down into the bucket.

“Done?” he asks.

You nod.

Then there’s a vial pressed to your lips and you swallow this liquid down with your eyes closed. It tastes like chamomile and smells of something the you can’t pinpoint. Something magical—one of Maz’s brews.

Then the water glass is back, and you drink a few gulps before Julian pulls it away again. You let him ease your body down and pull the bucket from your death grip until your head hits the pillow. Then he moves off and you listen to him shuffling around the dark room in silence.

Long fingers return with a cool cloth that he wipes first over your eyes which are sticky with tears and then over your lips. He disappears again and you listen to soft voices, Portia is at the door, then it creaks shut and you hear the bucket clunk on the floor.

You feel like you’re floating, Julian returns this time to lay beside you in the bed. You don’t notice you’re still crying until he starts to run his fingers under your eyes to gather the tears.

“What’s wrong love?” He asks.

Everything. You feel raw.

“I feel awful…” You let out a whimper and feel pathetic. Julian leans close and shushes you. His lips run across your cheeks. He reaches down and rubs slow circles on your stomach. 

“You’ll feel better once you’ve slept, I promise.” He says with certainty. You believe him.

“I love you,” you whisper, eyes still oozing, “please don’t go anywhere.”

“I’ll be here when you wake up.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hey folks, this is the most whumpy thing I've ever written so I'd love for feedback. Also please let me know if I missed any tags. 
> 
> Thanks so much for reading. I hope you enjoyed. This was definitely self-indulgent for my part.


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